(WARNING: This chapter contains blood.)

Bright light against her face woke Feral. She blinked a few times, adjusting her eyes to compensate for the blinding light. Her face twisted a bit as she yawned, stretching her features in all manner of odd angles. The tip of her tongue curled with the action, an occurrence quite common among canines. As her mouth drifted close, Feral cast a glance at her comrades. The other three Smurflings were still fast asleep. She blinked, sleepily. It took a few minutes before Feral managed to force her way up, and out of bed. Even then, it was a mix of slithering and grumbling before she was standing beside the bed. She looked at the bed, and had to resist the temptation to crawl back beneath the warm covers.

She stretched, tail sticking out behind her as she did so. It had been a week or so since she had initially challenged Tracker. There had been a rather unnerving lack of activity on the bully's part since then. Of course, Tracker still went about his daily chores, and the like as did every Smurfling. Still, he hadn't caused anyone any grief for the duration of the week. Well, there had been one incident when he had shoved Vanity into a mud puddle that the Smurflings had made themselves, but Papa Smurf had been there when it happened. As usual, he made Tracker apologize, not that the Smurfling meant it. No matter how many times Papa Smurf had Tracker apologize for his wrong-doings, everyone knew he didn't mean it. He never had, and he probably never would. So, what was the use of trying? It could have been because Papa Smurf hated dishing out severe discipline to any of his Smurflings. Perhaps he thought they were too young to take such punishments? Either way, it didn't matter. Tracker would carry on being Tracker, and Papa Smurf would continue to be altogether too soft Papa Smurf.

Ah, yes. Feral did think that their beloved Papa was a bit too soft dealing out his punishments. No, that wasn't right. Feral thought he was entirely too soft with his punishments. What kind of punishment was making someone apologize, anyway? Not a good one, in her opinion. If she had been leader, she would've made sure Tracker was really, truly sorry he'd done wrong. She would've made him to the other Smurfling's chores for a week, or swatted him with a switch, or something. How would any of them ever learn to respect the elder Smurf if he never made them respect him? That was exactly what Feral was going to do to Tracker. She was going to make him respect her, and everyone else.

You see, during the week of cease-fire between Tracker and the other Smurflings, Feral had nothing to do but sit, and mull over all the nasty things Tracker had done. Not just the one she had confronted him for, but all of them. In her way of thinking, Tracker needed to pay for it. He'd bullied them all for far too long, and it was time he got what was coming to him. Yes, it was rather nasty (and in a way, wishful) thinking, but Feral thought it all the same.

When Feral changed into her everyday clothes that morning behind the divider (after all, it wouldn't have exactly have been appropriate to change in front of the opposite sex), she couldn't help reflecting, once more, on all of Tracker's wrong-doings. As she walked to the kitchen that morning to see what Greedy Smurfling had cooked up for breakfast, she thought about it again. Grouchy, who was walking a few paces behind her, noticed her tail bristling.

"I hate tail bristling!" He grumped, startling Feral.

"Gah! Why are you looking there anyway?" After being startled, that was the best response she could come up with.

"Well, you have to admit, Feral, it's a bit hard to notice," Handy stated, cautiously. Scaredy nodded his agreement.

Feral glanced over her shoulder, attempting to see her tail. Truthfully, she didn't have any trouble seeing her tail. Face it, it was bright red, and massively bushy. Who wouldn't notice that? They were right, and it nearly infuriated Feral more to know this. She needed someone to yell at right now, but her friends hadn't done anything to deserve it. Instead, she settled for grumbling out an apology.

"Sorry, guys. I just… don't know what smurfed over me."

By then, the kitchen was in sight. Feral quickened her pace, eager to rid herself of her perfectly horrible mood among the sea of Smurflings. As she pushed open the door, delicious odors wafted towards her. She could hardly resist drooling. Drooling? She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She was drooling! That was… new. She had never drooled before. Well, excluding when she was a baby because that didn't count. The agitated Smurfling skittered off to grab something to eat before someone noticed her predicament.

Even as she sat down between Brainy and Vanity, the drooling didn't cease. The two shot her nervous glances, easily catching sight of the vast amounts of drool that were dripping from Feral's mouth. She wiped at her mouth again, and sent apologetic looks in the directions of both Smurflings. Before the drooling could get out of hand, she quickly took a bite of breakfast. She took a few more bites before discovering that eating was most certainly not helping the problem. Instead, it was making it worse. Drool dribbled down Feral's chin, and dripped onto her clothes. Vanity looked relatively disgusted while Brainy… Oddly enough Brainy couldn't think of anything to say. The ridiculously intelligent Smurfling adjusted his glasses, and swiftly averted his gaze.

"Hey, Drooly Smurfling!"

Feral cringed at the voice. Tracker. Papa Smurf was late for breakfast. He'd probably been up all night. It was a common fact that the Smurflings often had nightmares, and who better to soothe a terrified Smurfling than their own Papa? Some of Tracker's partners in crime had probably even faked nightmares for the sake of allowing Tracker an unhindered confrontation. A glass of some cold, wet, and red tinted substance cascaded over Feral's head. The growl that rumbled in the back of her throat along with her drooling made Feral look absolutely insane. This was the exact thing she had needed. What better way to release pent up energy than pummeling some bully.

Feral scrambled to her feet, stepping over the bench that she had been seated on. Tracker took an uncertain step backwards, clearly taken aback by the, for lack of a better word, feral appearance of his target for today. Her tail bristled, furthering her display of aggression. She felt a sharp pain in the back of her neck, causing her to flinch a bit. Tracker, taking this as a sign of weakness, charged towards her, fist raised. Needless to say, he was entirely taken by surprise when his opponent suddenly vanished, sending him sailing into the table. Dishes and cups shattered on impact, some because he had landed on them, and others from toppling off the table.

Vanity and Brainy let out similar squeals as they dove out of the way of an enraged Tracker. It was then that Tracker noticed just where his target had gone. She hadn't disappeared at all. Rather than being faced by a salivating Smurfling, a bristling miniature red fox had taken her place. The deep, blue-gray eyes that glowered at him from the fox's face betrayed who it was, or had been. Feral Smurfling.

Feral's pelt was standing on end as she snapped her jaws, daring the other to make a move. Even with her ears flattened against her skull, she could hear the startled gasps of the onlookers. Her skin still tingled from the transformation. It was the first time this had happened, but she wasn't complaining. Tracker regained his courage, and made another charge at Feral, this time swinging low. The fox growled, taking a few steps back. She lunged at what she believed to be the right time.

It wasn't quite right, however, and instead of striking his face, Feral's fangs end up embedded in Tracker's upper arm. She had missed her intended target yet still struck flesh. The other Smurfling emitted a shout of pain as the fox went to work tearing at his arm. Now that Feral had had the taste of blood, she wasn't stopping. In fact, the fox was verging on no longer being Feral. The part of her that was still a Smurfling had been replaced by the fury of a cornered fox. She wasn't thinking like a Smurfling any longer. The fox had taken over, and the fox would have its way. A sharp clout to the side of her head, knocked Feral for a loop. She found herself on the ground halfway beneath one of the benches. Smurflings scattered in her wake.

Feral was far from backing down. She could see the blood dripping off his arm, and could taste it decorating her jaws. Rather than sending her running with her tail between her legs, the blow had only heightened her rage. Feral's lithe frame hurtled towards her attacker, a flurry of blows postponed the attack for a bit longer. Now, the roles had changed. Tracker was going for self-defense hits while Feral had taken the only other available option. Offensive. The fox lunged, and snapped at Tracker's flying fists. He clipped her in the mouth more than one time, but she was determined. The next strike was the last either had a chance to make. Feral's snapped at the end of Tracker's nose, feeling her teeth break the skin.

"Smurfess me! What's smurfing on in here?"

The two who had been battling it out moments before came screeching to a halt. Tracker at least tried to look innocent. But Feral, however, had no shame. She was defending herself, and the other Smurflings against this menace, and no matter of punishment would make her forget. By now the Smurfling side of her had returned, the fox half being startled into submission at the sound of Papa Smurf's voice. She watched the adult standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

"Well? Is somesmurf going to explain what's going on?" Papa Smurf asked, glaring at the two standing before him.

"Well, Feral," Tracker began, pointing accusingly at the fox, "Attacked me for no reason!"

"That's Feral?" Papa Smurf sounded genuinely surprised.

"Yes, Papa Smurf. It's me," Feral said. Her voice sounded odd. There was a slight growl mingled with an odd rasp. Both could be attributed to her transformation.

It took a few moments before anyone spoke, and when someone did, it was Papa Smurf.

"Whatever this was about, you shouldn't have been fighting. I am ashamed of both of you for causing such harm to one another."

"I'm sorry, Feral. I don't know why I did it," Tracker said, faking yet another apology.

Feral was quiet for a few moments before she growled, "You dirty liar…"

"Feral!" Papa Smurf scolded, "You must apologize to Tracker this instant!"

"Papa Smurf, you don't understand! It was Tracker! He-" Feral protested.

"Feral, you should not blame your own mistakes on others," Papa Smurf responded, cutting off Feral.

"But-"

"No 'but's! Apologize!"

"I'm not going to apologize to him!" Feral spat, earning a gasp from the gathered Smurflings.

"Feral, I-"

"No, no, no! I won't apologize to him! I won't! I won't! I won't!" the fox barked. Foxes aren't the best at barking, so the sound was more of a harsh yap. It sounded somewhat similar to a dog trying to bark while being hoarse. It wasn't a pleasant sound by any means.

Before Papa Smurf or any of the other Smurflings could stop her, Feral darted out of the kitchen. Without knowing it, Feral found herself heading back towards her home. She hadn't noticed before, but the tooth she had broken in her previous fight with Tracker was absolutely killing her now. Something about the heat of battle had made all thoughts of pain seem obsolete. She whimpered as she felt herself change back into her normal self. She shoved open the door, slamming it shut behind her. At the moment, she didn't want to deal with anyone. The simple act of sliding the bolt on the door shut was enough to prevent anyone from getting in. The frustrated little Smurfling yanked the curtains closed, hiding herself from the outside world to the best of her ability. With an aching tooth, and head in general, Feral huddled up in the corner with a bed sheet for comfort. Her mouth was still coated in a layer of blood, and her own blood was also present in a few places. Mostly it was just bruises. Tracker's blows had been misplaced enough that only a few places had received hits hard enough to draw blood. To top it off, Tracker was used to fighting Smurflings, not foxes.

Feral raised a hand to touch her still broken tooth. Even touching it caused an intense wave of pain. Throughout the week, the tooth had been incredibly sensitive. Now, it was practically unbearable. Worst of all, it was one of Feral's canine teeth. That made it an even larger loss than if it had been a front or side tooth. (Being part fox, Feral's teeth were more pointed, and fox-like.) She whimpered once more. The sound of footsteps outside caused her to snuggle farther into the corner. Above the sea of voices she could distinctly hear Papa Smurf. He sounded distressed, but, at the moment, Feral could care less. It didn't matter what they thought. It didn't matter at all.

The throbbing in her tooth was driving her practically crazy by now. She got to her feet, and fished around under Handy's bed. It didn't take long before she found what she was looking for. Handy's toolbox. As well as the belt filled with tools that he normally wore, he also kept a toolbox filled to the brim with useful tools beneath his bed. Feral rummaged around in said toolbox for a few moments before, triumphantly, retrieving a set of pliers. She smirked. This'll fix my tooth for sure! Feral opened her mouth wide, setting the pliers, firmly, around the large canine tooth with a crack down the middle. She cringed, hands shaking, at the fresh bolts of pain that shot through her mouth. A few moments passed as Feral made sure the pliers weren't going to slip off her tooth. The Smurfling let out a small yelp as she gave a yank on the broken tooth. She dropped the pliers as the tooth suddenly released. The tooth popped free, sending blood pulsing through her mouth. She placed a hand over her mouth, trying to contain the blood welling from the hole in her gum. Feral's opened the eyes she had shut during the procedure. In the center of the round rug that decorated the floor sat two halves of a tooth. Fortunately, the roots of the tooth were still intact. This meant that the tooth had come out clean rather than leaving the roots behind. Had this happened, Feral most likely would have ended up with some manner of infection. If the infection went untreated, it would've had the potential to kill her.

Feral glared at the door which was currently being assaulted by numerous Smurflings who were trying to get in. They were probably just trying to help Papa Smurf. She got to her feet, and started towards the door. She slid a second bolt into placed, keeping the door firmly locked. With that, Feral returned to her corner. She huddled back into the blanket she had pulled into the corner. A scowl was present on her face, blood dribbling from the corner of her mouth, the result of her self-performed surgery. She squirmed into a bit more comfortable of a position, and began to plan her next move in the fight against Tracker. Eventually, she would have to speak with Papa Smurf or at least someone about what had happened.

A soft tapping on one of the windows got her attention. She rose, and made her way over to the window. She opened one side of the curtains to see Scaredy's face looking at her from the other side. She couldn't leave him out there. What if Tracker got him? Cautiously, she released the lock on the window, swinging it, quietly, open. As she helped Scaredy in, she noticed Grouchy and Handy standing a short distance away. She sighed before motioning them closer. She helped both of them in through the window, relocking it afterwards. Right now, Feral admitted that she needed someone to talk to. She had some things she needed to get off her chest, and who better to tell than these three? No one that she could think of. Not even Papa Smurf.